


Creases

by blorkingelle



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 01:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3750529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blorkingelle/pseuds/blorkingelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur, Eames and some early evening rain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creases

**Author's Note:**

> More established relationship schmoop. Posted from tumblr. Inspired by [this](http://youcantsaymylastname.tumblr.com/post/110206322566) gorgeous Arthur/Eames graphic by youcantsaymylastname.

The rain started to sprinkle down the moment Eames locked the front door.

“It wasn’t supposed to rain tonight,” Arthur frowned, hailing a cab.  Eames walked down the few steps of their townhouse to stand by him on the sidewalk.

“Let me see what I can do about it.”  Eames closed his eyes, hummed a few bars of ‘Rain Rain Go Away’, opened his eyes again.  “Sorry, love, it looks like we’re stuck with it.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes.  “You’re not amusing.”

“Granted, it’s not my best material, but I feel that half the fault lies with my audience.”  He playfully reached for Arthur’s hip, only to have his hand slapped away.

“Don’t.  I’m already going to be creased enough with this rain and sitting in the car,” Arthur said gruffly, arm reaching back to again hail a cab.

Eames laughed.  “Darling, my parents happily spend most of their time serving greasy chips to delinquents.  They are not going to judge you for a few creases.”

“Well, I do,  _darling_ ,” Eames winced at Arthur’s harsh tone.  “I’m going to be lying to your parents the entire night.  What we do, how we met, if I can make sure their only son is going to be safe and happy with me, because—let’s be real—I  _can’t_  promise that.”  Arthur took a few deep breaths and his eyes drifted off to the side.  “All I can give them is a fucking dry, uncreased shirt, so get in the damn cab, Eames.”

Eames blinked a few times, caught up in the wave of words he’d just been assaulted with.

“Get in the cab, Eames,” Arthur repeated, holding the back door open.

“Yeah,” he murmured as he slid into the backseat, Arthur following behind him.

Barely listening to the instructions given to their driver, Eames looked at Arthur.  He was staring straight ahead, face blank, shoulders straight and pulled back.  If this had been only a few years ago, Eames would have assumed Arthur was playing the part of the cold, uncaring point man.  But after a hard fought battle over and under the myriad of barbed-wire-topped walls of Arthur’s defences, Eames knew that the blanker and more stoic Arthur appeared, the harder he was trying to control the torrent of his emotions.

Arthur was a veritable storm of feelings and insecurities, you just had to know how to look.  Eames had taught himself how to look.

Reaching out, he gently placed his pinkie finger over Arthur’s, skimmed over the fragile skin, listened to the rain pattering on the roof of the car — smiled as he saw Arthur’s shoulders slacken, his jaw clench and unclench.

The storm had passed, or had at least been contained for the moment.

Arthur turned to study him, keeping eye contact for a handful of seconds before looking him up and down.  “Your hair’s a mess, and your tie is crooked.”

Eames’ smile widened while Arthur leaned close to straighten Eames’ already perfectly straight tie.  Eames remained silent but couldn’t help lightly brushing his lips over the curve of Arthur’s ear.  Arthur’s hand dropped to rest over Eames’ heart, their breaths synchronising to its low drumming.

One beat.  Five.  Ten.  Then Arthur pushed away to his side of the cab again.

Eames’ pinkie stayed over Arthur’s for the rest of the trip.


End file.
